


Home to Stay

by suyari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dad! Did you know Scott's dad is an F.B.I. agent?! It's almost as cool as <i>your</i> job!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home to Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr.

Stiles has never been a particularly good listener. Everyone says so. He's always getting in trouble because he 'never listens'. It's not the truth, but no one wants to hear that. So Stiles thinks it's only fair that if they won't listen to his reasoning, he doesn't have to adhere to their rules. Because the fact is, he _listens_ , he just doesn't agree.

His father is a deputy and everyone says he will be the Sheriff one day, so they all expect Stiles to behave. But it's hard to behave when no one will explain _why_ he needs to do as they say. So he gets in trouble a lot. But, that's okay, because the worst that can happen is he gets arrested, and he happens to know that Sgt. Vasquez is a sucker for a pouty lip and puppy eyes. So he's okay.

He's visiting his Dad and there are a lot of people. Mommy says to sit at Daddy's desk and be quiet while she goes and finds him. "Don't move," she tells him sternly and uses his full name to make sure he obeys. Stiles wrinkles his nose as he nods and kicks his feet as she hurries off. He spins in the chair and rearranges everything on his Dad's desk, and uses all the tape and paperclips to make art that hangs underneath it. He's debating logging on to the computer to see if there's anything interesting to see when he sees Officer Keegan walking a kid down the hall. He's dirty and bleeding, and Stiles scoots the chair across to his father's partner's desk.

By the time they sit the kid down, Stiles has scooted the chair all the way across the room. But, he hasn't moved, so it's okay, Mommy won't be mad.

"Hi!" he greets, leaning over Detective Hart's desk so he can wave near enough for the boy to see. "I'm Stiles. Stiles Stilinski. My Dad is a Deputy now but everyone says he's going to be the Sheriff one day. I think it's gonna be cool to be the Sheriff's kid. Even if it means we don't get a police dog. You have to be specially trained for that. Are you from Beacon Hills? Oh! Did you move here? My dad says it's so small that everyone's gonna know each other forever. Which is okay I guess, cause this girl in my class - her name is Lydia - she has really pretty hair and she always smells like strawberries. Not the real ones, but the lip gloss and candy kind. But even if it's not the real ones I still think she smells nice and one day I'm going to marry her, and then I am going to be the Sheriff and we are going to live happily ever after because I will be the best Sheriff _ever_! Even better than my dad - don't tell him I said that - and when _I'm_ Sheriff I'm going to round up all the bad guys and put them in prison forever, except for the petty larcenies 'cause you know - do you know what that is? - they're the people who shoplift and stuff cause they don't have any food or take too many pennies from the drop a penny. And you know, they can't help it most times, so I think it's okay if they just sleep over in jail."

The other kid's eyes look up at him through dark fringe, but his hands are still clasped tightly in his lap and his feet are crossed. The chair's too big for him, but Stiles thinks that's most of the fun, really. Well, it is if you try.

"Did they arrest you? It's okay if they did cause you're a minor, so they can't hold you. They have to call your parents or child services. Did you get into an accident? Are you hurt?" He reaches across and runs his hands down the dirty, and scratched but mostly unharmed arms. "Do you need a lawyer? My moms' best friend is a lawyer. I can call her for you, I know her number! It's okay though, you know, 'cause my dad will take care of you. He's the best Deputy here, which is why he's gonna be Sheriff one day. Do you like Neccos?" He pulls the roll from his pocket and holds them out.

"I only really like the green and white ones. The yellow ones are alright, but don't eat the brown ones, they taste like they look." His hand bobs in offering. When the kid doesn't take any, he looks, and horrified sees a black one. He plucks it free and throws the black one over his shoulder. "No one likes the black ones - except my grandma. I throw them out when she's not around, because Mommy said I can't keep saving them in jars. They go bad."

He tries again, and this time the kid plucks an orange one and puts it in his mouth, chewing slowly and still eying him quietly. He makes so little noise, most people would probably be afraid of him. But Stiles knows how to tame animals - he can even feed squirrels from his _hand_! - so it's okay.

"Orange one," he says. "They're not so bad." He pulls out the next one - a pink - and puts it in the other boy's palm. "You'll probably like that one too. They kind of taste the same. You know, in my class, no one really likes these. They think I'm weird. I don't have a lot of friends. Do you? You look like you have a lot of friends. Oh! Do you speak English? Maybe you don't. My mom says not everybody does and we shouldn't assume. Umm...all I know is how to order tacos and ask where the bathroom is in two more languages. Well and...Me llamo Stiles. Nazywam się Stiles." He sits up, chair sliding slightly. "Stiles," he says again, pressing a hand to his chest.

When the boy doesn't respond, Stiles makes a face at him. And another. And then flags both his arms around until the kid's lip curves slightly in something that's enough like a smile that Stiles smiles back.

"Scott," he replies, voice scratchy and small. He stuffs the pink Necco in his mouth and clutches at his shirt.

Stiles grins wide, like he just won the lottery. "Hi, Scott. Here, you should try a green one. They're almost the best. It's gonna be a while before we get a white one. I'm just gonna rip it, okay?"

By the time his parents find him, Stiles and Scott have gotten Necco dust all over Detective Hart's desk. They're in the middle of color coding some files with all the markers Stiles could find on various desks within rolling distance. And Scott is teaching him Spanish words.

"Stiles!" his mommy cries. "I told you to stay at Daddy's desk!"

"You told me not to move," he tells her very seriously. "I didn't move. The chair did."

His parents make that noise they make a lot and his Dad rubs at his forehead like he's tired. "That's my dad," Stiles tells Scott. "And my mom. And that's Agent Carver. She's nice enough but you won't get any lollipops."

Scott's eyes follow his, looking everyone over as they're introduced.

"Dad! Did you know Scott's dad is an F.B.I. agent?!" he gasps, bouncing slightly. "It's almost as cool as _your_ job!"

The grown ups all blink at him, like they do a lot when he talks. He thinks they all have allergies and should see the doctor but no one likes shots, he thinks, 'cause they never do. Agent Carver crouches down and Scott shrinks back in his chair.

"No!" Stiles tells her, holding out a hand. "If you take him away he is going to not be able to breathe. He doesn't have his medicine. Because the bad guys didn't take it."

"What's your father's name?" his Dad asks.

Scott looks at Stiles, who frowns and shoves the manila folder at him. "Write it, cause I still can't say it right and spelling's important."

Everyone watches as Scott leans over the folder and writes in very neat letters. 'McCall'.

Stiles tilts his head.

"McCall," his Dad reads. "How many McCalls can there be in the branch?"

"Some angel something," Stiles says. "Gabriel." Scott shakes his head. "Michael?" He does it again. "Rafie-"

"Rafael McCall?" his Dad interrupts. "Agent Rafael McCall?"

"You know him?" his Mommy asks.

His Dad says a bad word and tells them not to move and goes back to his desk.

"It's okay," Stiles assures Scott. "You're probably not going to get in trouble 'cause you got kidnapped. Mommy? Do you have my juice?"

His Mommy pulls a box out of her purse and hands it to him, ripping the wings up. She tries to put the straw in but Stiles wants to do it himself. Scott helps when he can't get it in right.

"It's for you," Stiles says, and Scott doesn't move. Stiles shoves the box in his hand and shoos him. "It's apple. No one's allergic to apples."

Scott sips the juice.

"It's okay. My Dad's gonna call your Dad and you can come live with us if it takes him too long to get here. You can sleep in my room, my bed is very big. Do you have a best friend?"

Scott shakes his head.

"Wanna be mine?"

Scott smiles around the straw and Stiles holds his hand out. "Best Friends forever and life." Scott shakes it.


End file.
